


Never Neverland

by Mika-chan (mikarin)



Series: Waver [3]
Category: Digimon - All Media Types, Digimon Adventure Zero Two | Digimon Adventure 02
Genre: Daisuke is so done with everything, Drama, Family Drama, Friendship, Gen, Ken is an A+ boyfriend, M/M, Takeru needs a hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-31
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-04-02 05:38:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4048249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikarin/pseuds/Mika-chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daisuke thinks nothing of it when Takeru shows up at his house one day. It’s when he shows up repeatedly after that that it becomes a cause for concern.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Set about four years prior to "Waver." This story is based on a throwaway line from that story. Enjoy!

It’s a typical Monday right up until Daisuke walks through his front door. For one, there’s a pair of black loafers beside the shoe rack that belongs neither to his father or himself. Second, his mom's raucous laughter can be heard from the foyer—the type of laugh she reserves only for immediate family, which narrows the list of potential guests considerably. Before he can get to a third point, he hears a familiar voice that spurs him to make a beeline for the kitchen. 

"What are you doing here?" he asks immediately upon entrance, dropping his duffel bag beside his sneaker-clad feet. 

Takeru raises his eyes from the teacup he is about to sip. His back is straight, not quite touching the back of his chair as manners dictate and he’s still wearing his school uniform. He sits across from his mom, a tea set and a plateful of cookies between them. After a brief pause, Takeru takes a sip of his tea. The total disregard to his question irks, and he's positive the other does it on purpose. Jerk.

"Daisuke!" His mom snaps and he starts, breaking eye contact with the blonde and shifting his attention to her. His mom looks furious, her hands wrapped stiffly around the cup of tea she held. "Take off your shoes and pick up your bag," she demands before turning to face Takeru once more. A smile blooms across her face. "Don't you see we have a guest?"

Daisuke snorts even as he starts to unlace his sneakers with one hand while the other is braced against the wall for balance. "That's not a guest. That's just Takeru."

"Daisuke!" His mom reprimands him at the same time Takeru finally decides to speak up, "Hi, Daisuke."

"Hey," he replies absently as he kicks his shoes beside his bag and flops down in a chair between the two. "What's up?"

Takeru shrugs his shoulders, placing his near empty teacup back on its saucer.  “Nothing much,” he replies eyes trained on the cup for a few seconds before rising to meet his. “Ken mentioned you got  _The Last of Us_. I wanted to check it out.”

If he had been thinking clearly, he would have asked why the other hadn’t messaged him earlier rather than just show up uninvited—something completely unheard of for the blonde. Instead, the mere mention of the game has him bouncing to his feet. “That game is fucking awesome!”

“ _Language_ , Daisuke.”

Daisuke ignores her, already taking the few steps to grab his bag and rambling on about the game’s accolades. He is halfway to his room before he notices no one is following him. When he looks over his shoulder, Takeru is standing behind his chair with his fingers bracketed on back the top of it. 

“Come  _on_ , Takeru,” he says impatiently as his friend thanks his mom for the tea.

“You’re welcome, Takeru,” his mom replies as she also stands and starts gathering the dishware. “Have fun, and make sure my son does some homework.”

Daisuke groans even as Takeru nods in assent before reaching for his own bag and following him out of the kitchen and down the short hallway to his room.

oOo

Daisuke graciously lets Takeru play for the first fifteen minutes before he demands his controller back before the other can mess up his game file. Takeru handing him the controller without protest should have been the second sign that something is up. It isn’t until several hours later as Takeru is helping him get through his English homework that he chances a glance at his alarm clock and sees that it is nearing ten o’clock.

“Uh, shouldn’t you be heading home soon?” he asks, scratching the back of his head with the hand that is not currently holding his pencil. Takeru ducks his head, lets his bangs curtain his eyes and doesn’t respond right away. He straightens from his previous crouch over Daisuke’s workbook and clears his throat. “I…that is—”

There’s a knock on his door soon followed with said door opening. His mom appears at the doorjamb in her nightclothes, arms laden with a pillow and several blankets. Being the polite gentlemen as he is wont to, Takeru immediately walks over to relieve her of the burden.

“Thank you, Takeru,” his mom says with a smile. “If you need another blanket, please let me know. Also, the spare futon is in Daisuke’s closet.” 

“Thank you, Mrs. Motomiya. I’m sure this will be fine.”

Daisuke watches the exchange slightly slack jawed. 

“Sweet dreams, dear,” she says before directing a stern look his way. “Don’t stay up too late, Daisuke.” She then leaves the room.

Daisuke watches as Takeru proceeds to pull the spare futon out of his closet and roll it open on the floor parallel to his bed.  “Uhh…What’s going on?”

The silence stretches as Takeru makes up his bed without looking at Daisuke once.  When he’s done with that, he takes off the outer layers of his school uniform until he’s down to his white T-shirt and boxers. “Like you said, it’s late,” Takeru finally says as he folds his linen shirt and slacks and places them to the side. With his feet tucked beneath him, he looks up at Daisuke. “Do you still need help with conjugating the rest of your vocab list?”

Daisuke glances at the sheets of paper below his palm and then back at Takeru.  “I guess not?” he replies, voice laced with uncertainty before he does a double take. “Hold on. What’re you—why are you staying over?”

“You’re mom offered when she saw how late it was,” Takeru explains slowly as if speaking to a child. Daisuke scowls, hating when anyone took that tone of voice with him.

“And when were you going to tell me this?” he asks, clearly irritated.

For some unfathomable reason, the question causes both of Takeru’s hands to curl into fists, and the blonde stares briefly at the carpeted floor before glaring back up at him.  “If you don’t want me to stay, I can leave,” he says darkly, and it simultaneously leaves Daisuke feeling confused and offended.

“Wh—Calm the fuck down, all right?” he snaps. “Considering this is _my_ house and this is _my_ _room_ you’ve decided to camp out in, I feel I should know what’s going on.” Daisuke returns Takeru’s glare tit for tat until Takeru’s expression melts into a shamefaced one. Takeru runs a hand through his hair, a nervous habit Daisuke recognizes, and avoids his eyes as he apologizes. 

“I’m sorry. It’s. It’s been a long day,” he says in explanation, but in reality, it doesn’t explain anything at all. Considering how downtrodden Takeru looks at the moment, Daisuke chooses to cut him some slack.

“It’s fine,” he states grudgingly, and the room soon falls into an uncomfortable silence. He stares at the top of Takeru's head while thoughtfully tapping his homework with the tip of his pencil.

There’s really only two things that can cause Takeru to become moody: evil digimon and his family. Since the former is severely (and thankfully) lacking since they defeated MaloMyotismon, it must have something to do with his mom, dad, or Yamato. Daisuke really doesn’t want to get into it right now though, and it doesn’t sound like Takeru is up to talking about it either. Takeru’s fights with his brother never last very long; even more so with his parents. So, Daisuke decides to throw the other a bone.

“I’ll forgive you,” he says, “ _if_ you help me finish this.” Takeru's head snaps up, and Daisuke grins cheekily; the action causes Takeru’s face to break out into a relieved smile. The blonde rolls his eyes.  “All right,” he says, pushing himself up to his feet. “Let’s get this over with so we can get some sleep.”

Daisuke spins his chair back around until he’s facing his desk. “Yeah, I wouldn’t want to cut into your beauty rest,” he quips. “You certainly need all you can get.” He barely finishes his sentence before a pillow smacks him on the back of the head.

oOo

Daisuke thinks nothing of it when he wakes the next morning alone in his room with a neat pile of bedding sitting beside his bed. Takeru goes to a different school a town over and has basketball practice in the mornings. So, he can only imagine how early he has to get up. Daisuke’s just thankful the blonde hadn't woken him up.

Filing yesterday away as just another odd day in the many he is sure to have in his life, Daisuke drags himself out of bed and prepares for what he is hoping to be a normal day.   
  
Yet, when Daisuke returns home that afternoon, Takeru is walking out of the den with his dad and both are laughing.

“Uh…” The sound draws both their attentions to Daisuke, who in turn stares back at them blankly. “What are you doing here?”

Takeru glances uncertainly from him to his dad and only stops when his dad claps a hand on his shoulder. “Takeru was just helping me with a small project,” the older man says, “and now that that’s done, I have to be getting back to the office.” He walks to the kitchen island to retrieve his briefcase, walks passed his son without pause, and heads to the front of the house. “See you later,” he says in parting, although to whom, Daisuke isn’t entirely certain.

When Daisuke turns back to Takeru, he’s rifling through his bag and whips out a video game.  _Dark Souls II_  to be exact. Rather than question it, Daisuke releases a put upon sigh and motions for Takeru to follow him to his room.

And later that night when his mom drops off Takeru's bedding, Daisuke helps him set up his makeshift bed without much comment. 

oOo

When Daisuke returns home the following day, it’s to see that Takeru is already in his room doing his homework. At his desk no less. 

“What. The. Hell.” He punctuates the last word by throwing his soccer bag onto the floor. It’s all for naught, however, because on closer inspection, Takeru has his earbuds in and can’t hear a thing. Daisuke opts to punch him in the shoulder to get his attention.

“Ow!” Takeru exclaims as he tears out his earbuds and glares at him. “What was that for?” he demands and that’s rich coming from him. 

“What are you _doing_ here?” Daisuke throws his arms into the air. “Again?!”

Takeru rubs his shoulder and averts his eyes. He swallows once. “I. I was.” He shutters his eyes and after inhaling a deep breath, he opens them once more and says in a low voice, “I’m not going home.”

Daisuke’s head jerks back. “…Say what now?”

Takeru glares down at his open textbook. “I’m not going home,” he repeats in a firmer tone and doesn’t follow that up with an explanation as to _why_.

“Why?” Daisuke shouts and the sheer volume of the question would have caused anyone else to flinch, but not Takeru.  Takeru remains tightlipped, and no amount of cajoling, demands, or threats results in a different outcome.

"Ken! What do I do?" he hisses down his cellphone, eyes darting to Takeru then back to the textbook lying across his lap. His boyfriend hums in a way Daisuke knows he is only listening with half an ear.

"What's he doing now?" Ken says, and Daisuke just barely manages to stop rolling his eyes.

"Studying," he whispers. "He's been at it for the past three hours. Who even DOES that?"

"I for one," Ken replies dryly at the same time that Takeru chimes in with, "I can hear you, you know."

Daisuke scowls at them both though neither can see him. "That's why I told you to put your headphones on!" he snaps at his unwelcomed roommate. 

Takeru swivels his desk chair around just enough so Daisuke can see him deliberately put his earbuds into his ears and then turns back around. Daisuke resists throwing a pillow at his head only because he knows he wouldn't get it back. Takeru can be such an asshole sometimes.

"Keeeeen" Daisuke whines, sprawling backwards on his bed without a care for his book that tumbles onto the floor. He hears Ken sigh.

"Has he told you why he's staying over yet?" Ken asks, and Daisuke sits up at the tone knowing he has the other's undivided attention now.

Daisuke scrapes his free hand through his hair. "No. Not a word. It has to be something with his mom, right? I mean, why else wouldn't he want to go home?"

Ken doesn't respond for a moment. "Just...wait it out, all right?" Daisuke opens his mouth to protest, but seeming to sense that, Ken rushes forward to say, "You know he won't talk otherwise. He can be just as stubborn as you sometimes, Daisuke."

Daisuke groans, flopping back onto his bed. His eyes slide to the side to the topic of their discussion. Takeru still has his head bent over whatever book he is reading, pencil tapping lightly on the pages to the rhythm of the music he’s listening to. Daisuke sighs.

"Don't I know it?" 

"I'll try to come over on Friday to talk to him, all right," Ken promises. Then adds thoughtfully, "Well, if he's still there anyway."

Daisuke is not amused at the attempt at humor. "And what should I do in the meantime?” he asks staring up at his white ceiling.

“The same thing you’ve been doing for the last few days: being a friend. It is your crest and all, isn’t it?” Ken points out lightly, teasingly, and Daisuke flushes at the reminder.

“Yeah, yeah,” he replies uncomfortably. Even after all these years, he still thinks him holding that crest is a bit of a stretch. He clears his throat. “You know, I find it a _little_ bit telling that you'd pull yourself away from your books for Takeru, but not your boyfriend. I’m not sure how I feel about that."

Ken chuckles low in this throat. "Go study, Daisuke." 

oOo

"Taking a break, runt?"

Daisuke grunts in response continuing his trudge to the refrigerator. He rummages through the shelves until he finds two soda pops he stashed in the back.

"I don't think I've seen you study this much except when Ken is over," Jun muses, humor laced in her voice. "And even then, that’s pretty questionable." Daisuke continues to ignore her as he twists the cap off one bottle and then the next before pouring the soda into two tall glasses. He starts when a breakfast tray with a plateful of anpan are placed on the counter beside him. His mother plucks the two glasses out of his hands and settles them onto the tray.

"I believe these are Takeru’s favorite," his mom says blithely and not only are these his favorite, they are also from his favorite pastry shop if he’s reading the logo correctly on the box sitting further down on the counter. A pastry shop that’s located an hour's train ride away.

“Mom…” Daisuke pokes at the pastry before pointing an accusing finger at her. "Do...do you know what's going on?!"

His mom frowns before smacking the offending digit away from her face. "Don't you take that tone with me, Daisuke, and you be nice to Takeru," his mother huffs as she fiddles with the pile of treats until they take the shape of a pyramid. "Honestly, if only you could absorb some of that sweet boy's manners, we'd get invited over the Miyamoto's for their annual barbecues."

Daisuke shakes away the sting on his finger, a scowl set on his face. "Could you _please_ let that go? Why would we want to go over those snooty people's house anyway! And I can't be the only one to blame!" He nods over to his sister who is still sitting at the kitchen table, eating strawberry kanten with tea. "That one over there hasn't won us any points with her stalking Yamato and all."

"It's not stalking!" Jun practically screeches, rising menacingly to her feet. "I'm a fan, who appreciates good music."

Daisuke makes a disbelieving sound in his throat. "A fan who camps outside the lead singer's apartment for almost a week just to get a glimpse of him." He turns his back on her to pick up the breakfast tray. "Yeah, okay. Pull the other one."

It says a lot about a man when he sees his youngest being held in a headlock by his daughter on the floor to merely walk around them to kiss his wife's cheek in hello.

"I'm home," Daisuke's father says and receives an answering smile in return. "How was your day? Oh! Are those anpan?" he exclaims when his eyes catches sight of the tray his wife is holding.

"Your share is over here, dear." Mrs. Motomiya gestures behind her with the tray. "These are for Takeru."

"Why does he get anpan?" Daisuke grunts trying to escape his sister's grip yet failing. "It's a conspiracy!" Jun whacks him on the head before finally letting him go. Daisuke holds his head between his hands. "Ow!"

His father frowns down on his son. "Daisuke, he’s a guest. He helped me put together the entertainment center the other day, too. Show some manners."

"Of course he did," Daisuke mutters before saying in a much louder and resigned voice, "Yeah, Dad."

oOo

Daisuke blinks groggily awake to darkness. He rubs his eyes in confusion not knowing what woke him up given the fact that he is a fairly heavy sleeper. He moves to roll over. Only then does he hear the sniffling and muffled gasping. He shifts quietly to look over the edge of his bed.

With only a scant bit of moonlight filtering through his blinds, it takes several minutes for his eyes to adjust to the dark. When they do, it’s to see Takeru's back shuddering beneath his borrowed blanket on the floor, his face pressed into his pillow and fingers fisting and un-fisting at the fabric. Takeru is trying his best to be quiet, but his efforts only exasperates the sounds he is already making to come across even more wretched.

Daisuke reaches down and puts a hand on his shoulder. "Takeru," he whispers. "What's wrong?"

Takeru stills the moment he makes contact, but doesn't say a word—going so far as to hold his breath in the hopes Daisuke can be convinced he is still sleeping.

"Hey," Daisuke tries again; this time jostling him a little bit, but the action results in nothing more than Takeru releasing a shuddering breath and hunching his shoulders closer to his ears. Daisuke keeps his hand there for quite some time trying to figure out what to do and finally just pulls his hand back and says, "Come on. Get up here."

Takeru rolls onto his back at this, knuckles rubbing against his eyes, but doesn’t make any moves to get up.

"Come on," he repeats, shifting back a little to create more space. "I don't have all night."

He waits for Takeru to make a move and thankfully, he does. The other comes back into view once he sits up, pillow held tight to his chest. He sees him deliberate for a moment longer. Then soon enough he’s crawling in beside him.

Daisuke moves until both can fit as comfortably as two teenage boys can in a twin bed. This results with his back against the wall, but he's dealt with worse situations.

"Sorry," Takeru sniffs, and Daisuke’s response is to throw an arm around Takeru's shoulder and pull him in until the blonde's head is tucked beneath his chin. Takeru, in turn, curls closer to him, his fingers gripping tightly onto his t-shirt.

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong now?" Daisuke asks plainly, his hand automatically running up and down Takeru's back the way Ken likes when he’s had a nightmare.

Takeru mutely shakes his head.

Daisuke releases an exasperated breath. "You can't keep this to yourself forever, Takeru."

"Mm," Takeru agrees. Then murmurs, "Maybe tomorrow."

"Right," Daisuke replies skeptically. "Tomorrow." A few beats of silence pass. "Whatever," Daisuke grumbles and closes his eyes. "Get some sleep, Takeru."

At once, Takeru’s body tenses, his grip loosening around his shirt. He says in a small voice, "Night, Dai-chan."

Daisuke exhales a soft breath at the defeated tone before his hand resumes its trek up and down Takeru’s back until the other relaxes in his grip once more; the action is as close to an apology he’s willing to give at it’s-too-early-for-this-shit-o’clock.

He closes his eyes and mumbles, "Night, Keru."


	2. Chapter 2

Unsurprisingly, Takeru doesn't say anything the next morning. Although Yamato does show up on their doorstep with a duffle bag presumably filled with Takeru's clothes (He’s sure Jun's squeal could be heard all the way from Kyoto). Eyeing the bulky bag, Daisuke wonders exactly how long Takeru thinks he can stay at his house—not that his parents seem to mind. They'd adopt the blonde and kick him to the curb if given the opportunity.

Daisuke scowls at the thought, his ear pressed to his bedroom door.

He isn't spying. This is his bedroom they are using to talk in after all. So, anything that happens in his room is rightfully his to know.

Unfortunately, he can barely decipher a single word that’s spoken. Unlike his conversations with Jun where raised voices are the norm, all he can pick out are low murmurs from the two brothers. In fact, if he hadn’t seen the two walk into his bedroom, he’d never know anyone was in there in the first place.

The voices grow louder as a shadow falls across the gap between his door and the floor. "Come on. I want to speak to Daisuke's parents before I leave," he hears Yamato say.

The doorknob rattles and Daisuke springs to his feet, backing up rapidly into the kitchen where the rest of his family is waiting. He stands with his elbow braced casually on the back of a kitchen chair when Yamato walks into the room. He sees Jun roll her eyes at him, but she immediately straightens once Yamato comes into view. It causes Daisuke to roll his eyes in turn before he focuses his attention back to his friend, who is trailing behind Yamato with his forehead pinched and shoulders sloped forward. The sight leaves an unsettling feeling in his stomach.

Yamato doesn’t waste much time, crossing the kitchen until he stands a short distance from his parents. He bows deeply. Takeru obediently follows suit. "I would like to thank you all for your hospitality for letting my younger brother stay here," he says. "It's most appreciated, and I apologize for the trouble."

His mom immediately rises from her seat, palms raised outward in a placating manner. "Please, Yamato; it is no trouble at all," she says, smiling at Takeru. "It's a pleasure to have Takeru over."

"That's right," his father chimes in though he remains seated. "It is no trouble."

Yamato lifts his head as his hand moves to pull something out of his blazer pocket. "Be that as it may," he says, as he presents a thick envelope with both hands. "Please accept this for your troubles. My mother insists."

Takeru becomes unnaturally still at the mention of his mom, his head still slightly bowed. 

While his father looks approvingly at the gesture, his mom looks flustered and shakes her head slowly from side to side. "That will not be necessary, Yamato."

"Please, Yamato says, hands outstretched steadily before him. “ _I_ insist."

His mom wavers, clearly not wanting to offend Yamato. Daisuke sighs at having to sit through all these platitudes.

"Saya," his dad says, and it prompts his mom to finally accept the money. 

Yamato smiles. "I have somewhere to be, but thank you again." He looks over his shoulder and says, "Takeru, walk me out?"

Takeru nods and turns toward the front of the house to do just that.

"Wait!"

All motion halts at the shout, and Jun blushes from where she has leapt out of her seat, palms flat on the table.

“Um. I,” she stutters at length before blurting out, “Autograph!” She pulls an autograph board seemingly out of nowhere and holds it in front of her. “Please,” she adds with wide eyes.

His dad pinches the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “Jun…”

“What?” Jun asks, color rising to her cheeks. “We are housing his brother—I mean, not that it’s a bother," Jun is quick to add as she whips her head back to her idol. “He’s great. Really.” 

Daisuke shoots an amused look at Takeru, knowing the other always enjoyed a good laugh at his brother's discomfort over enthusiastic fans. Unfortunately, Takeru isn't paying attention being too preoccupied with staring moodily at the floor. It dampens Daisuke’s mood considerably.

“Sure,” Yamato finally says, smile clearly forced and reaches out for the board and pen. He signs the board with a flourish and hands it back. Jun holds it as if it is her most precious possession in the world.

“Thank you so much!” she gushes and brazenly extends her hand out for a handshake. Daisuke sniggers. “You’re really pushing it,” he says, without lowering his voice at all.

“Shut it,” Jun says through clenched teeth, her lips stretched into a smile.

One handshake and photograph later, Yamato is finally allowed to leave their house. Daisuke is willing to put money down on the fact that this will likely be the last time he ever comes over here.

“My sister is a nutca...” Daisuke trails off as Takeru storms past him. A few seconds later he returns with his basketball and Daisuke’s jacket in hand. He tosses the jacket in his direction before putting on his sneakers. He then shoots him an impatient look while waiting for him to do the same.

Daisuke grumbles, shoving his arms into the sleeves of his windbreaker and his feet into his sneakers. He only just gets his other foot into his shoe before Takeru is pulling open their door and heading out. 

“We’ll be back before dinner,” he hollers as he hurries after the other. He doesn’t wait for a reply; just closes the door and jogs after Takeru who is already quite a distance away. When he does catch up, he doesn’t say anything, but does shoot a few annoyed glances at the other along the way. 

The silence stretches up until they get to the public park. There are two basketball courts, one of which is already occupied by what looks like a bunch of guys his age. Takeru steers them to the empty one. He dribbles the ball to the center of the court. Daisuke trails reluctantly after him until he’s standing opposite the other.

“Twenty points,” Takeru says, bouncing the ball to him. Daisuke catches it between his two hands and sighs.

“Are we going to talk about this?” he asks plaintively. Takeru’s only response is to bend his knees into a crouch, arms held up on either side of his body.

“Argh—fine!” he says, shrugging off his jacket, balling it up and tossing it to the side. It doesn’t go very far, but it’s a least out of the way. He bounces the ball awkwardly a few times, grimacing all the while.

Daisuke is incredibly athletic if he does say so himself. Give him a football and he can run circles around just about anyone. Well, excluding Ken of course. Oh, and Taichi. _Anyway_ , barring those two, he’s pretty good, and he’s a decent runner, too, which is pretty necessary in any sport. Basketball, however…He has never been adept at the game. He isn’t sure if his hand-eye coordination just sucks, or if it’s the constant dribbling that throws him off. In any case, basketball is _not_ his game. It will _never_ be his game. Him chasing Takeru around the court for the next fifteen minutes reaffirms this fact.

Daisuke collapses onto the grass just outside the asphalt, staring up at the darkening sky. “Tomorrow…” he says in between breaths, “we’re playing…football…” He lies there, arms and legs splayed out like a starfish and waits for his heart rate to settle. He then lets his eyes drift from the sky to the side where Takeru is still practicing some free throws. The other’s body appears less tense now as he’s handling the ball, which is something to say the least.

They stay like this for a while: Takeru taking shot after shot and Daisuke simply watching him. As dusk begins to fall, the sounds from the other basketball game fade, and the happy chatter from the few kids playing on a jungle gym also dissipates. Eventually, all that remains is the staccato thwup-ping, thwup-ping and chains rattling that signals Takeru has made another successful shot. The sounds become rhythmic after a while, and Daisuke lets his eyes fall shut.

He really hopes whatever funk Takeru is in resolves itself soon. He isn’t sure how much more of this he can take. If the other would just tell him what was bothering him, _maybe_ he could do something about it. Frankly, he has English sentences with more context clues than he does with figuring Takeru out right now.

Daisuke opens his eyes again when a strong breeze blows through and underneath the collar of his shirt. He shivers and pushes himself upright from the ground. Takeru is still at it, but enough is enough.

“Hey,” he calls out. Takeru freezes from taking another shot and turns his head his way. “It’s getting late,” he says, climbing to his feet. “Let’s head home.”

Takeru does a quick scan of his surroundings and appears to finally take notice of how they’re one of the few people left in the park. He inclines his head in agreement before walking off the court.

After gathering their things, they make their way back to his house in a companionable silence. Takeru is tossing his ball from one hand to the other, while Daisuke is trying to recall what homework he has to finish tonight and whether he has a quiz in algebra tomorrow. He wonders absently if Takeru will be willing to help him study for that test if it turns out he does have one. In spite of his complaints, he has to admit if there’s one positive take away from this entire situation, it’s that his English grades have improved significantly since Takeru’s been around. His teacher hasn’t been able to give him in the stink eye in a while and that’s always a plus.

“My mom had some guy spend the night on Sunday. I didn’t know until I walked into the kitchen the next morning to see him making breakfast for her.”

The statements are made without any prelude, and Daisuke’s pace slows to an abrupt halt. He stares at the back of Takeru’s head, unsure for a moment if he imagined the whole thing, but when Takeru stops a few steps ahead of him, he knows he hasn’t.

“It’s,” Takeru pauses, then starts up again. “It’s not that I never thought this was a possibility. That I have a problem with her finding happiness if that meant it was with someone other than my dad. I just.” He inhales a shaky breath, his back still turned away. “It was a shock, you know. I didn’t expect it. And. I know—I _know_ it’s stupid for me to think they would ever get back together again. The fighting was bad enough when they were together, but. Still. Even still, I hoped and.” Takeru raises a hand to brush haphazardly at his eyes, the other still holding on tightly to his basketball. “I didn’t want to face it—to even think about it. I couldn’t stay.”

Daisuke doesn’t know what to say into the silence that settles following the overdue explanation. Of all the things, he did not imagine this. An argument about how being on the basketball team is interfering with his studies, sure. A disagreement concerning what career he should major in college, maybe. A fight about breaking his curfew…okay, probably not, but there are very few scenarios Daisuke can think up considering how straight-laced Takeru actually is.

It leaves him floundering, and isn’t it fitting how only a short while ago he thought he could help if only he knew what was wrong? But this? Family is a big fucking deal to Takeru. Having caught the tail end of the illusion Belial Vamdemon subjected the blonde to, Daisuke knows all too well. And because it’s so important, he doesn’t want to screw it up by saying anything insensitive, or, worse yet, cliché and ultimately _useless_. Daisuke has absolutely no idea what to do.

“I can’t hide forever though,” Takeru continues on with a humorless laugh. “I have to grow up sometime.”

“Fuck that,” Daisuke speaks on instinct at the apparent, parroted words. Takeru turns around at this, eyes red and uncertain. “This has nothing to do with growing up,” he continues on, fumbling for words. “This is. This is about your mom and how you feel. You can’t just—you shouldn’t ignore that.”

Takeru bites his lip, eyes lowering to the sidewalk. “But Yamato…”

“I don’t care what he said,” Daisuke cuts him off, closing the distance between them until they are less than a foot apart. “This isn’t about him," he insists, knowing that at least for this, he’s right. "Right now, this is about you and how _you_ feel."

“I hated it!” Takeru blurts out at once, and it’s as if a dam has been breached and words begin spilling rapidly from his mouth. "I didn’t want him there! Why was he there? Why didn’t she s _ay_ anything? Before. Before I..." His voice cracks as tears start trailing in rivulets down his cheeks. He scrubs at them viciously with the edge of his palm and ends up just fisting the hair above his right temple when the motion does no good to stop them. “Everything is going to _change_ , and I don’t want them to just yet. I. I don’t care if it makes me sound like a kid, but I just wanted to pretend—even if it was just for a little while—that things were the same. I…" His face crumples as his entire body begins to fold into himself. “I. I’m s-sorry,” he chokes out, seemingly dismayed that he’s crying at all. “I don’t know why I’m even…” He starts to wipe his face again, and Daisuke can’t take it anymore. He moves.

He knocks the basketball out of the other’s hand, drawing a startled sound out of Takeru, and pulls him into a hug. Takeru freezes momentarily before he relaxes into the embrace, hiding his face in his shoulder.

“You’re picking that up later,” Takeru says, sniffling, and Daisuke huffs.

“Make me.”

Takeru expels a watery laugh and finally lifts his arms to hug Daisuke back. When his shoulders start to shake, Daisuke rubs his back like he did the previous night until they subside.

When Takeru speaks next, his voice is hesitant and low despite how close he is to Daisuke’s ear. “Can I stay over for a few more days?” he asks, and Daisuke thinks fleetingly to respond with an 'I have a say in this now?', but ultimately decides against it.

“Yeah,” he says instead. “Whatever you need.”

Takeru nods gratefully, his grip tightening a fraction, and murmurs, “Thanks.”

There’s not much left for Daisuke to say after that. So, he just stays there, long past when the sun sets and until Takeru is ready to let go and go home.


	3. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He is expecting toast for breakfast. Not some strange man standing in his mother’s kitchen and staring at him like he’s never seen a teenager before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Side story set before “Never Neverland” in Takeru’s POV. 
> 
> I apologize for the extreme delay in publishing the last chapter of this story. It was drafted completely ages ago, but, ultimately, I didn't like how it turned out and have been stuck ever since. RL has been incredibly busy too. I hope you enjoy this piece in the meantime.

Takeru stares blankly at the stranger by the stove, one hand curled around the handle of his school bag, while the other is hooked around the jacket of his school uniform. The man stares back, half turned away from the eggs he is cooking and shifts his weight from one foot to the next. 

Takeru takes in the wrinkled grey slacks the man wore, the white linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and finally his bare feet. It’s the last observation that causes everything to click, and he inhales sharply. It’s unfortunate that this is the same moment the man finds his voice to speak.

"Takeru...right? Your mother has told me so many nice things about you," he says haltingly, moving the pan off the flame and turning off the stove. He places the spatula on the counter, rubbing his hands together uncertainly and takes a step towards him. "I'm—"

"Late," Takeru blurts out. "I'm late," he repeats, breaking eye contact and all but running to the front of the apartment. He shoves his feet into his shoes, grabs his sports bag, and takes off out of the house. He's made it down the three flights of stairs before he hears his mom calling out after him. He pretends he doesn't hear her. If only he can do the same about what he’s seen.

oOo

"Takaishi! Get your head in the game!"

Takeru winces, as he feels the brush of displaced air of the second pass he’s missed today. He spins around on the ball of his foot, pushes his body to catch up with the rest of his team that’s already heading in the opposite direction.

He’s playing poorly to say the least—has already drawn the ire of his coach and a few of his teammates—but is unable to focus. Fortunately, it is only a few minutes later that a shrill whistle cuts through the air and signals that practice is over. Takeru scrubs a hand tiredly across his eyes and trudges off the court. A few teammates shoot him curious looks clearly baffled at his clumsiness today. Always the more brazen one, Hideo runs up to him and bumps his shoulder, asking in a low voice if everything is all right. 

"I'm fine," Takeru mutters back, trying to dredge up a reassuring smile, but fails utterly. If his shoulders slump any further, he'd resemble an ogre. 

"Hey, don’t sweat it," Hideo says, nudging him again in an attempt to cheer him up. "We're all allowed an off day. _You_ were definitely overdue one for a loooong time now."

Takeru snorts and shoulders him back. "Shut up." Hideo laughs, but quickly quiets once he catches the thunderous look on Coach's face. They are the last to reach their teammates who are circled around the older man.

"If you think for one second that kind of playing will beat Shinonome next week," Coach speaks slowly and deliberately, voice rising with every word, "you'll all be in for a big surprise. This has been the worst practice this entire season!" The man's shout has several of his teammates, including himself, cringe and several cast furtive glares in his direction. Takeru makes no outward sign of noticing the looks, but is certainly aware of them. He is more concerned, however, with Coach’s reaction to his playing. He braces himself for the tongue lashing he knows he’s earned this morning, but Coach merely barks for everyone to hit the showers. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Takeru turns to do just that.

“Takaishi. Stay.”

Takeru freezes in place, and Hideo offers him one last sympathetic glance over his shoulder before he disappears with the others.

Takeru inhales a steadying breath before turning back around and tentatively lifting his head up to meet coach’s eyes.

Coach is an intimidating man, standing at six feet with arms the size of tree trunks. His default expression is a frown, which matches his no nonsense attitude. He’s stern, but fair, and Takeru respects him a lot. 

Coach gives him an assessing look, forehead creased and lips pressed tightly together. He does not look happy.

“I’m sorry,” he says at once. “I was distracted. It won’t happen again.” He hopes the words would deflect the lecture he knows he’s due, but it only makes Coach frown more deeply.

“This isn’t like you, Takaishi,” Coach finally says, and Takeru averts his eyes to the floor. “Is everything all right?”

Takeru’s entire body stiffens at the question, and it takes him a moment to force himself to relax. “I’m fine,” he says, but even he can hear how untrue the words are. “I’ll be fine,” he amends and that at least gets an answering hum from the older man.

Coach claps a hand on his right shoulder (the unexpected movement rocks him in place) and gives it a quick, but firm squeeze. “If you need someone to talk to, Takaishi-kun,” Coach says making sure Takeru is looking at him while he does, “my door is always open.”

The kind offer makes Takeru smile for the first time that day. It isn’t nearly close to his usual ones, but it’s still one all the same. “Thanks, Coach.”

Coach straightens and says gruffly, “All right. Hurry up before you’re late for class.”

Takeru nods and rushes off to do so. 

oOo

His day continues its downward spiral from there. With his mind wandering incessantly back to the events of this morning, he’s reprimanded twice for not paying attention, once for being late to class and is given a disappointed stare when he answers a relatively simple question in English class incorrectly.

It doesn’t take very long for his classmates to catch on to the fact that something is off with him too. Several approach him to ask if he’s alright, and he automatically responds that he’s merely tired from staying up too late studying. He isn’t about to share the real reason, and thankfully, no one pries too deeply. 

It’s why he’s been ignoring the many messages Hikari has sent him today. Since they attend different schools now, both make it a point to touch base at least once a day through e-mails. Yet, Takeru knows that it will only take a few exchanges before Hikari figures out something is wrong and will get him to talk about it. Talking about it, though, is the last thing he wants to do right now. 

It’s why he finds himself hesitating at a crossroad. If he turns right, he’ll be minutes away from his apartment complex and having to face his mother. If he turns left, he can avoid it for a little while longer.

He turns left, feet taking him further and further away from home. When he reaches the intersection that will take him to Hikari’s apartment, he speeds past that too. He wanders for a bit, comes across a park and sits on an empty bench that faces some jungle gym equipment. There are several children sitting at the top, laughing and making silly faces at each other, and their parents mind them from benches set on the periphery of the park. There’s a father playing catch with his daughter a distance away, and a mother helping her son build a fort in the sandbox. The day is bright and normal and Takeru can’t get the knots in his stomach to unravel.

He leaves, debates about calling Yamato, but has a feeling he won’t listen. Will tell him this was bound to happen and Takeru stops that train of thought. He wants everything to just stop.

He winds up in front of Daisuke’s apartment. He believes it’s where he’s been headed all along. Daisuke will let him be. He’ll be confused at first. Then agitated and just plain Daisuke and that’s what Takeru needs right now.

He takes a step forward, but stops when he realizes he hasn’t spoken to the other in a while. Will he let him in? He shifts his bag on his shoulder, suddenly nervous about what to do, where to go. 

He doesn’t want to go home.

“Takeru?”

He starts, head snapping up to see Daisuke’s mom at the front door, right hand braced on the top of the doorknob. She smiles, and Takeru somehow musters one up too. 

“Good afternoon,” he manages to say, and she nods. 

“Good afternoon,” she replies. “It’s been a while.”

“Y-Yes,” he says. Then fumbles for what to say next, but comes up blank.

“Daisuke’s at football practice,” Mrs. Motomiya kindly informs him, and Takeru feels his stomach bottom out.

“Oh.” His eyes fall to the ground, and the knots in his stomach wind tighter and tighter.

“Is he expecting you?” she asks into the following silence and takes a step back to open the door wider. “Would you like to wait for him inside?”

“I—no. I mean, he’s not. I.” He realizes this is a terrible idea and takes an involuntary step back, turning to look behind him. “I should go. I.”

“Takeru.”

He stops, looks back to see her beckoning him forward. 

“Come inside,” she insists in a bold manner that reminds him so much of her son. “I just made tea. It would be nice to have some company.”

Takeru stays put for a moment longer, unsure, but when it looks like Daisuke’s mom isn’t going to take no for an answer, he finds himself walking forward.

“Thank you,” he says equal parts shy and grateful as he passes through the entryway; the tension across his shoulders relaxes a bit as he does.

Closing the door behind him, Mrs. Motomiya beams. “You’re doing me a favor, Takeru. Who wouldn’t want to spend an afternoon with a handsome young man?” She slaps him none too lightly on the arm, and the corners of Takeru’s lips curve slightly up in response.

Daisuke complains about his mom a lot. About how important appearances are to her. How conniving she can be. How incredibly shameless she can be.

“It’s downright embarrassing,” Daisuke grouses, “I still get dirty looks whenever I visit that supermarket, and it’s only because they know I’m her son!”

While Takeru’s been on the receiving end of some fawning and more inquiries about Yamato’s personal life than he thinks is appropriate, truthfully, he’s always found Mrs. Motomiya kind of refreshing.

“Now you must tell me how the star basketball player of Kaetsu is doing.” She winks cheekily, and he pauses from toeing off his shoes to immediately protest the moniker.

“That’s really not the case, Mrs. Motomiya. There are a lot of better players.”

The older woman dismisses his response with a wave of her hand. “I find that very hard to believe. Now, Daisuke tells me you scored thirty points in your last game.”

“Fifteen,” Takeru corrects her as he follows her down the hallway that will lead them to the kitchen. “Daisuke tends to exaggerate.”

“That’s certainly the truth,” she replies dryly, and Takeru finds himself smiling.

Their ensuing conversation is light and easy, and for a while, Takeru forgets. He talks about basketball; his teachers; his schoolwork. He listens to Daisuke’s mom gossip about the neighbors, laughs at all the right places, and pretends everything is fine.

And when Daisuke comes home, Takeru inhales a fortifying breath, smiles, and pretends some more.

It works, until it doesn’t, but for now, it’s enough to get him through the day and even the next.

He can’t say that’s the case the following day, but, well, nothing ever lasts, does it?


End file.
